A Dash of Color
by TwiAddictAnne
Summary: An artist who sees everything in shades of black and white. A young mind to whom colors of the rainbow aren't enough to describe life. What will happen when their worlds collide? Will the darkness consume the light? Or will the colors change the darkness for the better?


**A/N: This is a birthday present written for one of my best friends in the fanfic-world, addicted-to-romione-bedward. My first attempt at writing something very different from my usual style. I hope you like it, sis. Happy Birthday. :***

**A Dash of Color**

"Mr. Kinney! One more time, please!"

"Kinney, this way."

"Give us the smile, Kinney!"

Several voices call out from the crowd while flashes go out all around the man standing at the entrance of the art gallery with two scantily-clad women flanking him.

He rolls his eyes at the people flocking around him pretending to care.

His friend and agent, Michael Novotny, leans close from behind and says, "You can at least smile a little, Kin. I don't care that you're rolling your eyes at this right now. Thank fuck for the shades, but you won't be making any friends looking like you're in pain."

Kinney stops smiling altogether and turns around. He starts walking without any preamble, knowing that the crowd will follow him no matter what. They always follow him. On his way past him, he murmurs to Michael, "I'm not here to make friends, Mike. I'm here to earn a shit-ton of money. So let's just get on with it."

Just before entering the gallery that's showcasing his latest paintings, he stops to look at the women hanging on to his arms with claw-like fingers. "Ladies, you can beat it now," he tells them. "There won't be any free publicity for you inside."

The girls look taken aback by his attitude and leave him alone, and for the life of him, Brian Kinney can't make himself be bothered by it. The touch of those women's hands on him, felt weird and very, very … wrong.

Brushing off the feeling, he leads his so-called fans to his pieces. _It's show time_, he tells himself as he does.

**~*~*~* A Dash of Color *~*~*~**

"Justin, hold up!" The blond-haired young man stops when he hears his best friend, Daphne, call out to him.

"Where's the fire?" she asks once she catches up to him.

"Sorry, Daph, I'm not gonna attend the rest of the classes today," Justin tells her. "I've got somewhere I need to be."

The wide smile on his face is a telling sign, and Daphne raises a questioning eyebrow at him. "Let me guess, Kinney?"

His cheeks brighten a little as he nods. Knowing that she'll not judge him, he says, "His new exhibit opens today at the art gallery. And …"

She laughs, trying to shoot down the small pang of hurt that still stings her heart every time she's reminded of her unrequited feelings for her best friend. "And like the crazy stalker you are, you're planning to skip school and go, aren't you?"

"Well, you know what they say … it isn't stalking if you don't get caught." He gives her his most innocent smile.

She scoffs. "Right. Anyway, I gotta go. My class is about to start. Have fun ogling him from afar."

He chuckles. "See you tomorrow, Daph."

"See ya." With a half-hearted wave, she parts, wishing at least one of them could have had their happily ever after; all the while knowing that it was a damn near impossible wish to be fulfilled.

**~*~*~*A Dash of Color*~*~*~**

"So you can see how the piece shows the artist's desire for world peace ..." Kinney rolls his eyes at the hostess, silently thanking Mike for providing the shades.

As the dimwitted woman keeps droning on about his feelings toward the current world condition, a voice speaks up from somewhere in the middle of the apparently enthralled crowd. "Maybe he just saw a flower and he thought it was pretty?" the voice asks innocently.

There is a collective gasp led by the hostess of the art gallery as she turns a scandalized glare toward the speaker. "Who said that? I demand to know who could even think of something so demeaning about Mr. Kinney."

A hand goes up in the crowd, and as if the owner of the hand is Messiah himself, the crowd parts to reveal a slightly-built blond young man. He eyes the people surrounding him and then gives a small wave to the hostess. "I did," he says. "I wasn't trying to demean him, you know …"

One small sound of disgust coming from the hostess shuts him up. "This is why I prefer not to allow college boys in such exhibits. You're just too simple-minded to even comprehend a talent like Brian Kinney's."

Kinney feels a smile tug at the corners of his lips as he listens to the young man argue with the vulture-like woman. He pushes away from the wall he has been leaning against and approaches them.

When he's close enough to see the wide grin on the other man's face, he says, "He wasn't being too simple-minded, Viola."

Viola, the hostess, turns her murderous glare on Kinney, probably expecting someone less worthy of her time, and immediately, her eyes widen. "Of course, Mr. Kinney," she responds, lowering her eyes to the ground.

"Kinney? Oh shit!" The young man turns his wide-eyed gaze at Kinney, and Kinney, trying to pay heed to Mike's advice, starts to smile. The next thing he knows, the young man is lying unconscious on the ground.

_Oh well … that's interesting,_ Kinney thinks.

**~*~*~*A Dash of Color*~*~*~**

"Ouch! That hurts like shit!" Justin curses as he sits up from his lying position, touching the sore spot on his head gingerly. As he looks around, all he can see is darkness as if he's been lying on a dungeon floor.

"I didn't know shit can hurt," A voice says from the darkness. "That must be some shit."

Justin can't help but chuckle. "That's a shitty joke," he says before a thought strikes him. "Hey, why is it dark in here? Did I die?"

This time the answering voice is much closer. "You think God will wake you up from the dead to make a shitty joke with you?"

Justin nods. "Maybe not. So why is there no light?"

"Because I like the darkness. It calms me down," responds the voice. "But if you feel like it …" it trails off, and after a moment lights flicker on, and Justin lets out a gasp.

"You're Brian Kinney!" he whisper-yells.

Kinney looks down at himself and give him a shocked expression. "I think I am."

Justin feels himself relaxing at this. With a smile, he says, "You're funny."

"I was aiming for sarcastic, actually. But I'll take funny, I guess. And you are …?"

"Justin Taylor," Justin says with a blush heating up his cheeks, the entirety of his situation becoming clear to him just now.

_Oh God! I fainted at the sight of Brian Kinney! _He screams in his mind. _He must think that I'm a little fanboy with a crush._

Unaware of Justin's thoughts, Kinney asks, "So why did you faint?"

"I have low blood glucose," Justin answers quickly … a little _too_ quickly.

"Sure you do," Kinney replies, letting Justin know that he doesn't believe that for one minute.

Desperate to change the topic from his could-be-certainly-possible crush on the man standing next to him, Justin looks around the room they're in.

It appears to be a minimally decorated one with a couch and a few chairs in there. Following his gaze, Kinney answers the question before he can ask it. "This is my private room," Kinney tells him. "Mike, my agent, arranges for a place for me to … uh … rest in each gallery that hosts me."

His momentary hesitance catches Justin's notice, and with a sly smile, he asks, "Rest? I think you mean to escape the crazy fans?"

"Why?" Kinney counters. "Do you happen to be one?"

"One what? Fan or crazy?" Justin asks back. "If it's about being a fan, then yes, I admire your work, and if you're asking about being crazy, then I guess I can be a little crazy … at times."

For the first time in a long time, Kinney feels interested in talking to this young man. He allows a rare smile slip by and asks, "So you like my work?"

"Yeah …" Justin starts before stopping and tilting his head to the side. "Can I ask you a question?"

With a humorless bark of laughter, Kinney nods. "Usually they just spit the questions out. You asked permission. So yes, you can."

"Was that flower really about world peace?"

His question makes Kinney laugh. This time it sounds genuine. "No," he replies with a shake of his head. "I couldn't think of what to paint and after sitting in front of the blank canvas for about an hour, I decided to draw the flower imprinted on the color tubes."

"I knew it!" Justin says with a big smile. "It was good though. But I think it would've been better if you had used colors."

"Colors?" Kinney asks, feeling shocked. "I don't use any colors except …"

Justin starts nodding. "Except black and white," he finishes for him. "I know. But I'm just saying … not too much of course … just maybe a small dash?"

"A small dash of color?"

"Black and white can be a little …" Justin stops, looking for the right word, and then continues. "Unexciting."

Raising an eyebrow, Kinney asks him, "So you think colors are exciting?"

"Of course," Justin answers easily. "You just need the right window to look through."

Kinney thinks for a moment and then asks the younger man a question he never thought he'd ask of a stranger. "Are you available to help me find that window?"

A few minutes later, Mike spies his best friend sneaking out of his own art exhibition with none other than the faint-boy in tow. Inwardly, he smiles. Maybe his old friend was returning.

**~*~*~*A Dash of Color*~*~*~**

An hour and thirty eight minutes later, Brian Kinney finds himself standing in the middle of a sidewalk, doubling over with the force of his laughter.

He feels a hand pat his shoulder and turns his head to see Justin standing right next to him with a wide grin on his face. "That was fun, right?"

Struggling to catch his breath, Kinney laughed. "_That_ is an understatement. I must say that I'm impressed by your ability to steal back their stolen food and returning it to the kids. How did you know they will be here anyway?"

The smile falls from Justin's face as he answers, "Let's just say this isn't the first time I've seen those guys trying to steal food from a harmless student. What you witnessed is the result of a lot of practice."

Understanding dawns on Kinney. "You? They picked on _you_?"

"Used to."

"Used to?" he repeats in shock. "As in they did it more than once?"

Justin shrugs. "They used to call me names and steal my food when I was in school. That's who they are, Brian. They're bullies. After the rest of the class went to college, they remained right here, continuing to do what they do best."

_Brian_. The way he calls his name feels so natural so … effortless that Kinney stops talking with his mouth hanging open.

"What? What did I say?" Justin asks, clearly noticing his expression.

"You called me Brian," Kinney says slowly. "No one has called me by that name for quite some time."

Justin feels the mood between them shift, and with his hand firmly placed on Brian's shoulder, he motions toward the park nearby. "Let's go for a walk."

**~*~*~*A Dash of Color*~*~*~**

Sitting on the slightly damp grass, Kinney leans his head back to rest it against the tree trunk as he gazes up. For a moment, he's astounded by the beauty of nature that surrounds them._ Why did I never notice how blue the sky is?_ He wonders.

Justin's voice breaks through his musings. "What's wrong with your name? I like Brian."

_He likes Brian. Such a simple reason to call me by that name_, Kinney thinks as a small sigh escapes him. "My dad used to call me that."

Justin's brows pull together in a frown before it dawns on him. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"For what? You didn't give him cancer."

With a nod of his head, Justin agrees. "You're right. A sorry doesn't help."

There's a melancholy in Kinney's voice as he says, "Nothing does. He used to be my best friend, and I just …"

"You miss him, I get it," Justin tells him, finishing his sentence for him again. The duo sit side by side for a silent moment before Justin nudges Kinney with his shoulder. "I think I know of something that might help."

"What?"

He doesn't answer his question. Instead, he stands up and offers him his hand.

**~*~*~*A Dash of Color*~*~*~**

"A bit more yellow," Kinney hears Justin murmur very close to his ear as he looks at the canvas sitting in front of them.

"This doesn't make any sense," he complains but dips the paintbrush his companion provided in the yellow color filled cup of the pallet.

"Some things don't need to make sense to be beautiful." Justin's breath tickles his ear as he whispers to him.

Suddenly, Kinney doesn't care about the chaotic mix of colors on the canvas anymore. No, all his senses feel like they're hyperaware of the man standing next to him. And for the first time in this long day of adventures, he doesn't resist anymore.

He lets the paintbrush drop from his fingers, probably leaving a bright yellow stain on Justin's carpet, and reaches for the ray of light he sees in the midst of his darkened world.

**~*~*~*A Dash of Color*~*~*~**

A shocked gasp, that's all Justin gets to let out before Brian's lips cover his, his arms pulling Justin close. For a moment, Justin wonders if he was using him as just an outlet for his grief. But as if he can hear his thoughts, Brian whispers against his lips, "I have wanted to do that since the moment you made that comment at the gallery."

"But you didn't even know me then," Justin reminds him. "You hardly know me now."

"It didn't bother me," Brian says, letting his lips trace the stubbles covering Justin's jaw. "I wanted to kiss the lips off the guy who was smart-mouthing about my shit."

"And now?" Justin pulls back a little to gauge his expression.

"And now," Brian replies. "I think I've found my window."

Justin doesn't let him say another word as he kisses Brian, efficiently shutting him up. He lets out a groan as he feels Brian's hand start to move down his chest and onto his stomach. Their tongues meet repeatedly, allowing the passion to take over.

**~*~*~*A Dash of Color*~*~*~**

As Kinney lies in Justin's small twin bed, he looks at the man sleeping next to him. In the muted light of dawn, the small smile on Justin's face makes his lips turn upwards. He sits up, intending to go hunt down options for making a cup of coffee when his eyes fall on the canvas sitting next to the window.

The light shines through the window and the chaotic mess of colors suddenly looks breathtakingly beautiful to him, and he smiles.

Yes, finally, Brian Kinney has found the right window for him.

**A/N: So … thoughts?**

**Share them with me and leave a review.**

**Rody, I hope I made you smile at least a little bit with this one, sis. Love you a lot. :***

**Thanks for reading.**

**Take care. **

**Ann**


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